Opposites Attract
by Dark Austral
Summary: Castiel attracts the unwanted attention of Lucifer. Lucifer's POV, spoilers for 5x10.


**Warnings**_: none really, just a lil angel brother interactions_

**A/N**_**: **This one-shot was inspired by a look. All it took was Lucifer looking at Castiel right when Meg walks down the stairs for this plot bunny to be born._

**_Opposites Attract_**

He's nothing like he imagined him to be; this tiny, young thing with a name spoken with such fever. Behind the reddish-orange flames, every scar littering the dull white grace hints at countless battles. They fade in and out, some fresh while others are ghosts. An angel should have no scars. It is wrong to taint something so '_pure_'. He used to be the only one to bear the scars of humility...till now. The flames flicker spurting out sweltering heat as Lucifer watches his prey.

Pale blue eyes fall down, scanning the soul beyond the vessel. He's entranced by the scars, can't stop looking at them. Some wounds are jagged and ugly. Some are rimmed red, rising slightly off the angelic flesh. Hell's scars are poison.

Pity swells in him as Lucifer moves his gaze, pondering why Heaven would send such a young spirit into the Pit. Such suicidal missions were given only to the archangels. Had Heaven fallen so far? A pleased smile begins to dart onto his face when the Devil pauses, resting on a distinct set of scars running vertically on the forearms. They are the darkest of the scars, edges crusted onto the light. Claw marks whisper about a struggle with a being yearning to break free from an angel's hold, not wanting to be saved.

Marks such as these are the easiest to heal, but it as if this Castiel wants the wounds to remain, like those pitiful remainders that humans love to carve onto themselves.

As if sensing his distaste, his brother's form blazes awake, eyes matching the bluest of flames. Chest straightened out, faith bellows like smoke making Lucifer want to choke. Instead, the fallen angel holds back, spying a familiar scar. Over this young angel's heart, where the brightest glow of his ebbing grace halos, a star-like burn ravages the smooth plane. This brother bears the full-brunt of a killing strike, a stain just as dark on the backside.

This angel truly is the one he has heard so much about. The one angel piquing his interest since walking on his father's green Earth.

_The stories of how an angel has disobeyed._

The rumors of an angel once dead now walking once more.

The declarations of an angel shielding the Winchesters, killing his own kind if he must.

An angel by the name of Castiel who is hunted and chased throughout space and time. And oh how Lucifer finds delight in the symmetry. Purring in content, he steps to the side, taking in the profile of his fallen brethren. The timid angel's doubt flares in his dying grace causing it to flicker to a dull glow before blazing once more into a steady beat.

Conviction within one as lost as he wets Lucifer's appetite.

"I'll die first," states Castiel, voice not wavering in the searing heat.

Taking in the determined face, Lucifer feels slightly surprised to hear the rejection. Bowing his head, his voice lowers in disappointment laced with intrigue. "I suppose you will." Then he ruffles his cracked, oil-slick wings walking past Castiel to let the seeds of his doomed future settle as the Serpent merges into the shadows.

"_Home sweet home_", Lucifer muses as pin-pricking brick scrapes against his burning knuckles, catching onto pale skin as he prowls outside the fire.

Within this rotting basement, with the only source of light emitting from a ring of holy fire, Lucifer paints his Hell for Castiel. Lets this brother, whose face was blown with bewilderment not fit for an angel, realize where his actions will lead him. A cage he will be locked in for eons till finally the last bolt springs free sending a cascade of hissing acidic water raining down from above.

Weaving in and out of the shadows once more, he circles his prey. While legend tended to relate him to a snake due to his fork tongued, Lucifer prides himself being more like a panther, watching the world with ever-knowing eyes. Before him, Castiel's face fights to remain neutral but a rainbow of emotions flies across the golden kissed face: fear, terror, shock, anger…stubbornness.

Halting near the brick corner, the fallen angel leans against an unforgiving surface, folding his arms across his chest. He has all the time in the world till midnight. And as much as Sam Winchester is important, he cannot help but be tickled at the reactions springing from his young brother.

Fond memories of the righteous anger Castiel displayed when finding the state of Nick raises a chuckle so sinister that Hell itself shook. Interesting how Castiel took it upon himself to save any human from an angel's fate. Nick. Dean. Sam. Lucifer peers silently into his brother's grace catching the name of Jimmy.

"_Slow. Confining_."

"_Vessels, little brother and you are becoming too engrained in Jimmy's_." He wants to tell this to Castiel, but he must give credit where credit is due. For Castiel must have already figured out the foreshadowing considering how long he has lasted without capture.

Well, until now.

A long, thin smile darkens his face as the Devil steps out once more, twisting his fingers near the flames relishing the blistering heat. A normal angel would have taken a step back, but Castiel stays rooted, chin tilted downwards as those endless blue eyes appear almost black in the poor lightening.

Those wide, innocent, naïve eyes drown Lucifer in their calm seas. What was once unsure waters, thrown off by random questions and a fearful reality of what will come to pass, they still as one name whispers with worry.

_Dean_.

The Dean Winchester who kicked open the door to doubt. Dean Winchester who begged an angel to partake in treason. Dean Winchester who took an angel to the lowest level of humanity in the form of a whorehouse. A certain Dean Winchester who calls Castiel a friend but in those soft non-spoken words, green eyes shine with an emotion that carries that title beyond its standard definition.

Jealously melds with cruel delight.

As if feeling his intrusion, Castiel turns his head to the side, breaking the endless stare of his older, more powerful brother. The fire sends longer shadows dashing into the ruffled dark hair, blanketing perfect pale skin in a luscious tan as the face morphs into pure beauty. Shoulders hunching slightly upwards as if to ward off a cold breeze, Castiel almost seems to drown himself in the over-sized coat, his frame losing its determined state for the briefest of seconds.

Narrowing his eyes, Lucifer tilts his head back watching as unseen wings rustle underneath the coat with preparation. What this youngster has in mind, Lucifer finds himself hanging in suspense. Despite the lack of words, Castiel has revealed much and all Lucifer can think is that his brothers are fools. This angel is a gem, a blue sapphire hidden amongst the garbage.

Settling against the wall, studious pale blue eyes never leave his beautiful brother. Beyond the weakening state of Castiel's existence, wings once white and full, shed graying feathers down onto the ashen floor. Give or take a few years and those wings will be skeletons, cracking with disuse. So much like his own.

Oh yes, Castiel truly is perfection. Everything an angel was meant to be in the eyes of his delusional father. With every flicker of the holy flames, Lucifer soaks in Castiel's calm aura despite the shaking terror singing deep in those bones. Bones that once belonged to another man, but that Lucifer can sense belongs to Castiel now. He watches as fingers curl over the hem of the sleeves, muscles tightening with anticipation.

The stench of Hell flutters out as Castiel's wings ruffle with discomfort. The stain of evil should be gone by now. Cocking his head, Lucifer finds himself even more intrigued, wanting to know what exactly happened down in the Pit. Hunger curls deep in his stomach as those enticing eyes narrow slightly sensing his change.

Lucifer purrs with sympathy. "You have the stench of Hell on you brother."

Lips thin as the memory of 40 years rise to the surface. Of endless searches and brief joy. Of spending long, drawn out nights reenacting his mission as Dean drowns in memories.

"We truly are alike, no."

Anger flashes, the flames rippling in its wake. "I am nothing like you," growls out a snarl, its edges dull but the metal unyielding.

Lucifer laughs out loud, that brave little face back in full force, loyalty outshining the reflection of the fire. "True, but at least tell me this, who was it that raised Dean Winchester? For I wish to watch our brother's face when I toss that soul where it rightfully belongs."

The air shifts, cracking with heated electricity. Castiel marches up to him, hovering outside the fire so close that the coat's edges singes. A whiff of smoke reeks the room alongside the rotting wood. Deadly seriousness hardens the angel's face making it cold like a statue. Castiel's surprisingly comfortable with the position of being near the deadly flames.

"If you touch Dean, I swear-" Castiel's voice is low, causing the few remaining windows to rattle in its wake.

"Oh?" Smirking, Lucifer lets it be known of his true intentions. The other mind's clicks with a speed that made Lucifer pleased to see that despite not being the best in combat, Castiel clearly was more brains than brawn. He would be a valuable ally, despite the lack of grace.

Stepping away, Castiel lowers his gaze, his breathing coming in long loud huffs. Lucifer raises his eyebrow, watching as anger is merely locked away instead of being let go. "I just want to know why you are so loyal to them? Dean Winchester has caused you nothing but pain."

"They are Father's creations." Dying hope rings in the background.

"He made you turn against your family, made you an outcast. You are falling, brother."

"It was my choice." Denial cracks at the tone.

"Are you even sure that the Dean you raised was the Dean our Father wanted? I heard stories of what Winchester did in the Pit and it makes me very doubtful that he is the Righteous Man…that he is Michael's vessel."

"I have faith in our Father." The tightening of the jaw hints at resolution upon this one fact. Shoulders straighten in true soldier fashion. Turning, Castiel faces the Devil with such absolute conviction that Lucifer finds himself questioning if this angel truly was a mere grunt. "I have faith in the Winchesters killing you." _Dean_ hangs between them, the utter devotion towards the human carving the angel's statement into stone.

Raising his flaking hand to his chin, Lucifer hides a frown. He had hoped to plant the seeds of doubt, yet Castiel was proving to be difficult. And he finds it invigorating. Shifting his shoulders, Lucifer lets his hunger shine with a predatory gaze. Fear flickers behind the reflection of the fire as Castiel merely returns his stare to the wall, like a good little son.

Stroking his chin in a thoughtful manner, Lucifer muses on all the tiny cracks and pressure points to make this angel fall to him. He must have Castiel on his side. Loyalty and uncertainty clash like Titans within that frail vessel. Possibilities are rising and falling constantly like the deep oceans that were his eyes.

Lost in his train of thought, Lucifer idly leans against the wall, memorizing every dip and scar of his brother's true form when Meg walks down the stairs blabbering on about capturing the Winchesters. Lucifer waits for that anger to rise once more, but alas nothing happens. Taking in a deep breath, he forces himself to wretch his gaze away from the pure being, grudgingly focusing on the task at hand.

Castiel listens quietly and Lucifer cannot help but send a secret grin at him. They both know what his true intentions are, that when this is all over the need for demons will be over.

"Still got time, Castiel." Oh, he loves how that name rolls off his tongue. It's like sweet candy and it takes all his restraint to not corrupt him any further. No, Castiel must come to him on his own accord.

Silence is his only answer. Sighing, Lucifer leaves Meg down there as a small parting gift to show his brother the truth of his situation. He knows the younger angel does not have the juice to kill her but he's eager to see what happens. And later on in the night, when he senses Castiel on the battlefield, zipping the brothers away to safety he cannot help but smile in dark pleasure.

But Lucifer doesn't laugh with abandonment until he sees Meg whimpering on the floor, holding her charred stomach. Never in a hundred years would he have placed Castiel and ruthlessness in the same sentence. Hell changes people, even angels. With a snap of his fingers, the fire extinguishes in a whoosh, blanking the basement in darkness. Oh, Castiel has potential and it makes him giddy. Meg stares up at him in shock with unbelieving eyes.

"Silly child," chuckles Lucifer and a mere blink her existence is burned out. Left alone, pale light of dawn trickling down the stairs, he steps forward, smudging the ash inhaling the sulfur, smoke and the spiced fresh air of Castiel. The hunger rumbles deep in him as he spreads his boney wings to the night sky.

Obsession has taken hold and Lucifer smiles in delight like a child receiving his favorite toy at Christmas. And Dean Winchester is the wrapping paper, concealing and creating an unneccesary barrier around Castiel. So, it only reasons that he must rip the paper into shreds before he can dig his claws into his brother and play for all eternity. Because this angel is special. Because...

Castiel truly is a peculiar thing.


End file.
